Artemis Fowl and the Quest for Common Sense
by Here Be Draggons
Summary: Little Arty falls for the mysterious new foriegn au pair, and this time, he's gonna make it work! What could possibly go wrong? Who could POSSIBLY get kidnapped? This is a little unusual, but I garuntee at least one laugh.
1. Disclaimers

Yo. 'Tis me, Here Be Draggons, with my first ever Artemis Fowl fan fiction, Artemis Fowl and the Quest for Common Sense. I hope you will enjoy it, or failing that, decide against legal action. Now steady on there children, while the nice lady reads us some disclaimers!

Disclaimer One: Eoin Colfer's characters aren't mine.

Disclaimer Two: But that doesn't stop me hawking them shamelessly in this predictable parody of pathetic proportions.

Please don't sink bitterly to your knees, weeping inconsolably, if you think the characters I have "borrowed" are a little out of character. Imagine Artemis and Co. are real, and Eoin Colfer records all of their exciting, pre-teen adventures in exquisite detail. Everything is totally correct.

How BORING would that story be? Plus, the characters would sue the poor author, because nobody likes to be told precisely howannoying theyactually are. In that case, imagine "Artemis Fowl and the Arctic Incident" written as an exact historical account- here's a short extract: "Artemis, Holly and Root stepped through the shuttle port doors, onto the crisp white snow, Butler in close pursuit. Artemis surveyed the scene for a few moments, then turned decisively to Butler. "Butler, old chap," he squeaked, "I do believe I've frozen my bollocks off."

See what I mean? Thusly, MY story is a totally different adventure to the ones Artemis and friends have faced before (but not TOTALLY totally different. Well. Not actually different. At all.), but I have presented their characters as they would appear before the editor gets her hands on them. So, my story is _true to life_. NOT, as some uneducated readers will undoubtedly label it, "_crap_".

Right, enough rambling. Let's get this freakshow on the road!

-applause-


	2. Och, Danny Boy!

**CHAPTER ONE: Och, Danny Boy!

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**

**I**t was the first morning of the summer holidays, and the sun shone gleefully through the bedroom window of one Artemis Fowl Jr., as he lay face down and spreadeagled on his expansive mattress. Birds twittered incessantly in the trees, candyfloss clouds scudded across the blue suede sky, and kids from the local village were already up and about, playfully shoplifting jacknives and lighters from the local Co-Op.

Artemis dozed happily in peace, enjoying the rest.

"Artemis! _Artemiiiiiiis!"_ Mrs Fowl howled from eight floors below, expertly ruining another perfect morning. "Get up! Artemis! Your breakfast is cold...! _Oh, the sonofa-_ Artemis! Come downstairs right this minute!"

Artemis was, of course, awake. Now. He lay there for a couple of seconds, without responding.

"Juliet. _Juliet!_" The shouting continued.

"Yezz Mezz' Fowl?"

"Can ya go get Artemis?"

"'Kay."

Juliet sniffed, blew her nose on her sleeve, and began tromping snottily up the long mahogany staircase.

Artemis, sensing her approach, groaned softly and covered his head with a pink eiderdown pillow. Cat-like, Juliet smashed her way through the door, hobbled over to the bed, tripped on a novelty 007 lava lamp, flew- screaming hoarsely- across the room, her foot gliding cleanly through an Apple Mac monitor and face colliding with the bed post, accompanied by a sickening crunch. Squeaking, Artemis pulled the duvet over himself, curled up in a little ball and hid.

"Artebis," wheezed the nasally-challenged Juliet, shaking the stricken computer off her leg and staggering over to the four-poster, "Your bmother says ya gotta get ub now. Artebis?"

She pulled the covers off him.

"Gaah! Gerroff!"

"Cobe on Arty, we're havig breakfast."

"Go away! You're infectious!"

"Aww, dat's sweet Arty," Juliet said, coughing phlegm onto the milk-white carpet and snorting.

Artemis opened his eyes and beheld the face of his current bodyguard, his lifelong friend and companion, one who had saved his life a thousand times and required nothing (but money) in return. She looked like death. He sighed and sat up, picking some clothes from off the floor.

"Fine. See you downstairs." He began to get changed.

A while passed.

"Uh… Juliet?"

"Yehz Mazzr Fowl?"

"Do you mind?"

"No… Oh, sorry Artebis!" she gurgled, blushing, and left.

The thirteen year old boy had the decency to wait until he heard her plummet back down the stairs. He then frantically sprayed the entire storey of his house with anti-bacterial air freshener. A bit paranoid, but hey, it was as good a time as any.

After a good half-hour of preening and striking masculine poses in his floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and getting dressed, Artemis dragged himself down fourteen flights of stairs to the breakfast-room, where his beloved parents sat at the table, reading the newspaper. (Obviously, they had half each.) His father was wearing a casual checked shirt, white jacket and stained Chinos. His prosthetic leg sat curled up on his lap. Artemis Senior (ironically) was very attached to it, and treated it more like a family pet than a titanium appendage. Fairy magic was, of course, the reason for his most recently developed little foibles, but obviously, his son had no idea. He suspected substance abuse.

"Good morning, son!" Mr. Fowl chirped happily.

"It is, is it?" questioned Artemis, staring hard at his father.

"Of course! It's the first day of your summer holidays, and now we get to spend the next _eight weeks _with our most favourite son in the whole wide world! _Ever!_"

There was a pause.

"Good morning, mother." Artemis took a seat next to her at the head of the light oak table.

"Hmmm?" She looked up from the paper. "Oh, _ciao_ dawhling."

Artemis' mother sat up straight in her throne-like chair, resplendent in her FCUK lime-green jogger-top, four sizes too small, complemented lavishly with a NYC baseball cap on backwards, creased pink miniskirt, red fishnet tights and maroon platform trainers with little flashing lights, plastic fingernails and make-up a centimetre deep. Her gelled and peroxide-blonde hair hung in dainty ringlets around hoop earrings the size of dinner plates. She shoved a plate of scrambled egg and bacon towards him. "Hurry up an' eat it babe, it's already as appetising as toenail risotto."

Artemis sighed and took a weak bite into a strand of bacon. He shuddered. "Why, it's delicious mother how do you do it well that was just divine but I think I'm full now _auf wiedersehen_ bye bye see you later maybe." He thwacked the plate away and hastily rose to his feet. Then he glanced at his scowling mother. He smiled nervously. "… If that's all right with you, of course."

"No!" She growled, "Siddown!"

"Yes'm."

"Right," she wheezed, taking a heavy drag on her tattered dogend,'cause there's summen' I gots ta tells ya. A new member ah staff is arriving here today. Her name is Marie Souzie, and she's come all the way from France, so yous better be a gennelman to her, okay? I hired her as your personal maid and au pair, cause it's obvious from lookin atcha you're already beyond the redemption of parental love."

"What! B-But… After all those _other_ girls!"

"Yeah yeah, but THEY were all top secret FBI agents/psychopaths who were hellbent on witnessing your long, drawn-out and agonising demise…."

Artemis was clenching his little fists under the table so hard his manicured nails almost drew blood. This was mostly indignant rage, but also desolation. His mother was never like this before his father had returned from hospital in Helsinki, on an apparently permanent sugar high. Artemis' theory was that, now her husband had lightened up a bit, Angeline reckoned that they qualified as one of those hip, funky, _nouveau riche _families, like the Beckhams- and she began to behave accordingly. She had even adopted a poorly-pronounced American accent, something like that of a New York talent shark. "This one's_ gotta_ be different." She coughed.

"Yes, mother. But do you really feel it necessary to employ yet _another_ foreign woman, whom we know nothing about, and give her free reign of our house and your beloved, and more importantly, _only _child?"

"Huh?"

"Well, of the last eight young ladies it was your bright idea to recruit, not one of them wasn't a beautiful young teenage assassin whose parents had both conveniently perished in a car accident that she was too young to remember and who acted all sweet and innocent until I got a crush on her and then lured me to a deserted building in the middle of nowhere or to the top of a famous landmark to challenge me to a final showdown with those stupid curvy ninja swords or whatever and I beat her with my newfound stupid-ninja-sword-wielding powers, o-or she confesses her undying love for me and proposes to me at which point Butler throws her off a pier. _And another thing!_ ALL of those girls were named Mary S-"

"So? Shaddap, babe, take a breath before your head goes blue."

Artemis did so.

"I wan' you ta show her around, let her know where everythin' is, kapeish? Friendly like. She'll be here any minute. Oh, for God's sake!" At this point, Angeline Fowl grabbed her husband by his only ankle and yanked him off the table, where he'd been dancing the polka with his left leg for the last ten minutes, singing "Danny Boy" in as near to an Irish-sounding voice as he could possibly get.

"Ow. Ye didnae hav'ta do that, did ye? Violence ain't the answer ya know, lassie."

"Father, how many times must I remind you? You are not- and have never been- a Scotsman."

The doorbell rang.

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**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading this far! Should I continue with this? It's kinda stupid... Please review, and tell me what I should do with it. Please. Sob I CAN'T MAKE DECISIONS ON MY OWN!

**Fave Quote That I Will Never Ever Change** (so far) **"Father... You are not- and have never been- a Scotsman."** Meee hee hee. Cracks me up every time. I'm so sad.


	3. What Geeves, Eh?

**Hunter-of-Fairies**- Thank you so much for your wonderful review! Here's the next chapter, just for you.

Great. Now I'm speaking in rhyme.

(Author's Note: As an added fun bonus, try reading Angeline and Miss Souzie's lines aloud! )

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**CHAPTER TWO: What Geeves, Eh?**

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"Artemis! Get the doawh!" 

"The doawh?"

"Yes! Miss Souzie is here!"

"Oh. Fantastic."

Artemis moped down the eternal corridors of Fowl Manor for a full five minutes before he reached the porch. He punched codes into four security systems, turned twelve keys in eight locks, undid three security chains and slid free no less than thirteen bolts. Still the door wouldn't open. What is this new assault! Artemis meditated for half an hour, then noticed the doorstop.

Muttering stormily to himself, he heaved the leviathan doors open. "Yes?" he snapped, then chanced to look at the person in front of him.

There, in the Gothic-arched doorway, stood the most beautiful woman Artemis Fowl had ever seen. The golden light of the sun proudly shone down upon her,alighting in streaks and puddles on her glistening hair that hung in cheery, lank ribbons from her pear-shaped crown, the perfect frame for her precious face; her low monobrow curling endearingly at the temples, small, deep-set, muddy green eyes glowing with some sort of allergy to pollen, sweet little nose curved upwards at the end, so that her large and hirsute nostrils were almost at a ninety degree angle to the ground; her beautiful lips chapped, cracked and mildly scabby, a sort of corpse-like colour, strongly dimpled, stubbly chin jutting out from her wide neck, and a healthy acne bringing colour to her cute, sallow cheeks- she couldn't have weighed more than 350 pounds, Artemis thought, and he felt a glow inside.

"'Allo. Eees thees za Fowel residence?"

"W-why, yes it ees, you must be Miss Souzie, I'm Artemis, please, come in, let me help you with those bags…"

"I waz born wiz zem," said Marie, smiling sadly, exposing slightly her perfect gold teeth.

"Ah-ha-hah, no, I meant your suitcases, hah, please-" Artemis gestured wildly in the direction of the inside of his house.

"Oh! Sank you," she said, giving her cases to Artemis, who promptly collapsed with their weight, "_Zut, _zis ees a big 'ouse! An' you leeve in _all_ of it?"

Butler trundled in and relieved Artemis of Miss Souzie's bags.

"Ah, Miss… Miss Souzie, i-isn't it? I'm… very pleased to meet you. Very pleased to meet you, Miss Suzie. Ah, yes. Eh… I t-trust your journey wasn't too stressful? Stressful?" The poor geriatric was finding it hard to remember what he was saying these days.

"It waz very good, sank you. Ze police here are strange, zough. I waz stopped by zem several times on my drive 'ere, but az soon az I roll down zee window to speek to zem, zey run away like I'm pointing ah gun at zem! What geeves, eh?"

"Very p-peculiar. Artemis here, I'm sure, has already introduced himself- you're to be put in charge of his, engh,his domestic care and well-being."

"_Oui, _I know, Madame Fowl told me on zee phone. Pleased to meet you for zee first time, Artemis."

"A h-hah, the pleasure's all mine, Miss Souzie- it's Marie, isn't it? May I call you Marie? Marie, would you like to rest a while after your long trip, or can I show you around now? Butler can take care of your bags…"

"Y-Yes, Master Artemis," Butler nodded gravely, "If that's… If that's your final decision," he said, grabbing the luggage and dragging it to the foot of the stairs. Artemis could hear him mumbling solemnly to it as he began his painfully slow ascent to the first floor. Shrugging, Artemis turned to the angel, his darling love, Marie.

"I sink I would like to look around now, sank you," she said, smiling. She was the image of health- well, there were a lot of greensin her teeth, anyway.

"Oh good. Please, follow me…" Artemisskipped happilydown the nearest corridor.

A few hours later, Artemis' guided tour was finally coming to an end, finishing in the kitchen, where his mother sat, talking celebrity gossip with Juliet.

"Hey, babe. Who's this?" asked Angeline Fowl (or A-Fo, as she liked to be called nowadays- she was trying to make it on the pop scene.)

"Mother, this is Marie Souzie, my new au pair- do you recall?" said Artemis, cringing only slightly with embarrassment.

"Oh yeah! S'up! What's goin' _down_?" said A-Fo., making the "Boyakasha!" gestures with her long, nicotine-stained fingers.

"Pleased to meet you, Madame Fowel. I am very well, sank you. Artemis has just shown me around. Zis ees a beautiful 'ouse."

"Yo, props, girl! Hey, ya like dogs?"

"Dogs? Yes, I do, if zey is friendly… Why do you ask?"

"Well, snort, Mrs. Fowl has an extra ticket to da greyhound races ad da local dog run, tobmorrow, 'cause she can't go, an' Mr. Fowl is afraid of da little Duracell bunny that da dogs chase. I hab to stay here, 'cause I godda cold," Juliet managed to say. She then proceeded to sneeze luxuriously into the dinner she was busy preparing.

"Juliet!" Angeline snapped (yes, I got bored of A-Fo), "D'ya think Artemis'll even _try_ those sprouts, now you've sneezed bogies in with them?"

"Bah, how can you even tell the difference?" Juliet retorted. Just then, Mr. Fowl gallivanted past the open door, riding naked on the back of a pig-like animal, waving his pet leg in the air. "You can't get him to eat the sprouts!" He shrieked joyously, before colliding with a hat stand. _(A/N: I thought it was getting boring, okay?)_

"Yes, I would like to go and see the races, sank you very much," said Marie, smiling.

"Fantastic!" said Artemis, without sarcasm for once, "You can sit next to me."

Upstairs, Butler stood in his bedroom, staring (or, more accurately, squinting) hard at the luggage that stood defiantly against the wall.

"I'm s-sorry that it has to… to be this way," he said to it, "Really, I have, eh, have nothing against you. Master Artemis wants you gone. It's just business, ehm, y-you see?"

The luggage was silent.

"Any last words?"

Again, silence.

"Then see you i-in, eh, hell!" Butler levelled his pistol and fired sixteen shots, the luckiest three of which hit the luggage dead on- two in the chest and one in the forehead. Gasping, it sank to the floor, to rest in the pool oftoothpase and shampoo spilling from its wounds. Butler sighed, bowed his head for a moment's respect, then pocketed his gun and hobbled downstairs.

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Yes, Like J-Lo. I stole the idea from another fic I read (which was really good! well done, author of that fic!) where Artemis allegedly renamed himself A-Fo. So sorry whoever I've ripped off. It was NOT my original idea. (Just to clear that up.) 

I'm not anti-French people, either. In most stories, the French maid is supposed to be sexy, so I'm taking the piss out of that. I'm not saying all French women are ugly! Okay! Don't hurt me!(Just to clear THAT up.)

Plus, (all you die-hard Discworld fans out there), yes, I did _somewhat _base Butler's character on the old monk who suffers from "demons" (forgotten the name) in _Small Gods_. You know, the one that tells Brutha to ignore Om the Talking Tortoise? Feh, s'been ages since I read that...

**Author's Notes:** Yes, this story is only getting stupider. Think of it as a log ride, complete incoherency being the pool at the bottom. Yay! Please review! I love you!

Alright, well I'll stop loving you if you promise you'll review.

Thank you!

_Draggons_


	4. Great Paws of Fire!

**Dragonandthewerewolf: **Wow, You're so kind! I'm gonna name my children after you! (Or maybe not...) And here's my update, just for you and hunter-of-fairies- my sob readers. Thank you so much for your reviews you two! _If only I had some **more** reviews, to which I could compare exactly how nice you are..._ **HINT HINT, RED LIGHTS FLASHING...**

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**CHAPTER THREE: Great Paws O' Fire!**

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The sun dawned on a bright new day in Ireland, for a few minutes at least, and then it was overcast till lunchtime. Artemis, Butler and Marie sat excitedly in the stands of the packed Dog Racing Place _(A/N: And I don't **care **what it was called, either)_, waiting for the eighth race to begin. The favourite to win was a greyhound named "Great Paws Of Fire", and our heroes- that's Butler, Artemis and Marie, of course- had all placed obscenely large stakes on her, as had most of the people who had any gambling sense at all. The hopes of the crowd were riding on this one race, and the nervous chattering and praying and shouts of "Where's my tickets!" and "Hey, that's my wallet!" were practically deafening.

Artemis was regaling Marie with tales of his evil plots and adventures and genius-ness, and he had to yell to be heard at all.

"… But it was alright in the end, though," Artemis began to (loudly) conclude, "Because I caught the puppy with the net made from Indian noodles and threw him at the evil Sergeant Pinklesworthy-"

"-'Ou 'ad a terrible fear of ze doggies!" finished Marie, smiling in awe.

"Quite right! I showed _him _a thing or two…" hollered Artemis.

"So, 'ave you any fiendishly cunning secret plans at ze moment?", Marie yelled.

"Yes!" shouted Artemis, hoarsely. He was by now too absorbed by the sound of his own voice to have noticed that the eighth race had already started. It was incredibly close, with Great Paws of Fire only just in the lead. Everyone was cheering like crazy, and Artemis was literally screaming. "Mind you, it's not a very evil scheme- you know that I hate whaling, don't you!"

"_Oui_!" mouthed Marie.

"Well, I've been making a satellite in the garage which I will be able to launch soon, that will-"

"_What! I can't 'ear you!"_

"I said-" shouted Artemis.

Just at that second, Great Paws Of Fire tripped, causing the other eleven dogs to plough unceremoniously up her arse, so to speak,ending up in a tangled heap an inch from the finishing line. There was a collective gasp, and silence filled the Dog Racing Place, as the crowd perched on the edges of their seats, waiting for some sign of life. Had they just lost shedloads of money?

"_I said, I've made a satellite that will, when launched, destroy every whale on Earth, and therefore put a stop to whaling, which isn't very nice!_" screamed Artemis, at the top of his lungs.

There was an agonising pause.

"Heh heh…" Artemis giggled, flashing his patented "don't look at me" smile.

Silence.

He sat down again.

There was a sort of _kksh-iik _noise, and Marie winced briefly in pain, scratching at the back of her neck. "Marie, Butler, I don't wish to put a damper on this lovely morning, but can we go home now?" requested Artemis, meekly.

"Alright Artemis. We haven't made anymore bets anyway," said Butler. Marie looked at her hand, which was smeared with blood. The party stood to leave.

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Okay, I know this chapter's quite short and un-funny, but never fear, 'cause Chapter Four is even shorter. Just kidding, chapter four is looooooooong. Read on though, something happens soon. I swear!

Arr, review, lest ye be damned, ye dawgs!

P.S: Going to a sleepover, so next update Saturday at least.

_Love, Draggons._


	5. A Rather Nasty Man!

**_Hunter-Of-Fairies: _**Thank you:) Oh yeah, and I really would go and get rid of the A/Ns, only I have a severe deficiency in the "Being Arsed" department. Plus, thanks-a-million-here's-my-firstborn-son for telling that person (whose name eludes me- sorry, person, it's late here >. ) about my story! Thank you so much! Worships I am not worthy... Oh yeah, and thanks to you too, Nameless Person (like in Hero! Sorry, never mind), whogave me kind permission to stealtheir A-Fo idea. And thanks for reading thus far! Hey, thank you WORLD. Anyway. For the grand total of THREE WHOLE READERS, here's _Episode Four...

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**CHAPTER FOUR: A Rather Nasty Man!**

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Later that evening, Marie, Butler and Artemis arrived back at Fowl Manor, after taking a slight detour around the Isle of Man- apparently the GPS was on the blink.Butler went to help Juliet finish up the cooking, Marie unpacked, and Artemis went to his room to look at Internet corn. (C-o-r-n!) 

Ten minutes later, Artemis heard screams, emanating from Marie's bedroom. He came running, and met the Butlers in the corridor. Juliet broke down Marie's locked door, but it was too late. Artemis staggered into the room, his face a mask of horror, as he surveyed the destruction around him. There had been quite a struggle- tables knocked over, lamps broken, paper crumpled, and the window smashed, the grappling hook that caused the damage still lodged in the wall under the windowsill. Fowl Junior ran over to it, and stared aghast at the black Nissan that was making its speedy getaway through the front garden's flowerbeds.

A hasty and cryptic message was scratched into the windowsill- "_Oh Artemis, please 'elp, zis rather nasty man's trying to kidnap me, and I'm not really zat keen on accompanying him! Signed: Miss Marie Souzie_."

Artemis sank to the ground, sobbing. "Marie! My darling Marie! _What's happened to you?"_

"Don't cry, Artebis. Maybe she went to da shops... or something..."

Artebis continued to howl.

Unsure of what to do, Butler the Elder again cast his rheumy eyes around the room, his gaze falling on adog-eared post-it note that was stuck to the dresser. "Artemis! Look! The mysterious assailant left a mysterious message of some sort!" Butler hurried across the room and snatched the paper from the dresser. "It says:

"If you ever want to see your beloved maid again, with her bones still on the inside, come to my secret evil lair at:

Ye Olde Fisherman's Baite Supplies

Kingarman St. Docklands

Dublin

R12 3HH

-At eleven P.M. sharp tomorrow. And come alone!

Yours truly,

A Rather Nasty Man"

Artemis was dumbstruck, till he screamed, "_What!_"

"Oh, sorry," said Butler, turning the paper over. "The actual message was "Two boxes of cornflakes, a carton of milk, detergent, washing powder and a copy of "The Times."

There was a pause as the psychological aftershocks of such an awful gag raked through the minds of the assembled party.

"M-Marie…" Artemis whimpered. Then he shook himself, and took a few deep, quivering breaths. "O-Okay. Okay. We need a plan of action. A plan that's long, boring, and needlessly intricate so no-one sulks because they don't get their fair share of near-death experiences in insanely dangerous situations… A _cunning _plan. A plan more planny than any plan before! A plan so random, half-cocked and irrational that even _insurance salesmen _shall tremble at its might! _To the Plan Room!_"

The others, smiling with awefor their visionary leader- a beacon of hope in their time of need- followed, as Artemis struck an overexcited Superman pose and "flew" out of the room, making zooming noises and tripping over broken furniture as he went.

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Alright, that's Chapter Four done. This hurts me more than it hurts you, you know.

Please review- if you still have the willpower to move your fingers, that is. No, seriously! Review! Right NOW! Honestly, I don't think I ought to bother writing this if nobody (well, if only three people) are going to even let me know they've read it. Review or I'll cry! sulks

Sulkiness, _Draggons_


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